Flashforward, Flashback
by Helvetica Black
Summary: She knew him before he even knew her name, and he knew her before she was even born. She knew he was destined to be with someone else, and he knew she loved the son he didn't yet have. Time travel was a complicated thing.
1. RMS Titanic

The assembly was complete. All the vampires of the Olympic coven, Carlisle, Edward, Esmé, Rosalie, Emmett, Alice and Jasper, were in attendance. Carlisle Cullen had told every member of the coven — save for Alice, for he was certain that she had already seen it coming — that they were returning to the Cullen house in Forks. Carlisle phoned Edward about this plan, and when Edward vehemently refused, Carlisle told him that it was something terribly urgent. Something about Bella. After the doctor ended the call, he asked Alice if Edward was indeed coming to Forks, to which Alice replied with only a slight nod.

There was obvious reluctance in some members of the coven, namely Edward, Alice and Jasper. The house was, after all, not exactly full of their happiest memories.

Jasper Hale's attention was on one place, particularly on the rug where the drop of Bella's blood had fallen during Bella's birthday. He remembered when she got the paper-cut, and it was still fresh in his memory how rich and red that drop had been, how deliciously tempting it had seemed. It was the drop that started the end of it all, the drop that ruined the little trust that the coven had in him.

Jasper sensed the resentment that everyone felt. Especially Edward. Resentment rolled off of the mind-reader in waves. It didn't take an empath to know that he had terribly disappointed the whole coven. Disappointment was on all of their faces.

Alice Cullen was, in a word, confused. A rare thing for her, since she had the ability to see the future. She had seen in a vision that everyone was assembled in the Forks house, so as soon as Carlisle announced that they were returning to Forks, she wasn't surprised. Alice was, however, confused. It didn't seem to make sense that they were suddenly returning to Forks, after all that had happened. No matter now much she missed Bella, Alice understood what Edward meant when he said that Bella was better off without them. The bad things that happened to Bella only happened when they were around, and the coincidence was uncanny. James only happened upon Bella because she was with the Cullens when they played baseball. The paper-cut incident only happened because Alice had arranged a party for Bella, and Alice already felt guilty enough for not foreseeing the incident.

Rosalie Hale was peeved. As she stood in front of the Forks house, she thought of walking away, all the way back to the Denalis. She didn't like the house and all the emotional baggage that came with it. The Bella baggage, specifically. The female vampire had had just about enough of Bella baggage. Rosalie Hale had her own baggage, after all. She was a rape victim. She may have killed her rapist, but it didn't change the fact that she had already been raped. What had happened to Rosalie Hale was a true crime, and was worth mulling over. All that ever happened to Bella Swan was an _almost_-vampirism and an _almost_-death. The girl was still human, alive and well, so Rosalie just didn't understand all the lamenting and emotional turmoil that everyone felt. Remorse over _almost_-crimes just seemed stupid.

Emmett Cullen stood beside his mate and studied the expressions that played across her beautiful face. He saw hints of resentment, anger and, much to his surprise, jealousy. He pulled her close and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster, and told her that everything was going to be fine, even if deep inside, there was a ball of fear that gnawed at him. Emmett Cullen was not stupid, despite what others believed. He only chose to ignore things if they endangered his happy disposition. Emmett Cullen grew up thinking that overthinking never made anyone happy, so if acting dumb was what it took, then acting dumb was what he was going to do. When Carlisle had announced that they were returning to Forks, however, Emmett could no longer play dumb. He knew there was something going on. Something he was afraid to know. With a resigned sigh, he walked into the house, he and his mate hand in hand.

Edward Cullen couldn't help but stare at the spot where the table used to stand. The table he had practically smashed Bella Swan into. He noticed that the wall and floor around the spot was clean, and where there used to be broken wood and shattered glass and blood, stood a new table, identical to the one that got destroyed on Bella's birthday. _It's almost as if nothing happened, _Edward thought with wry humor._ It's almost as if _she_ never happened._

"You said this is about Bella. What happened to her?" Edward asked as soon as he stepped into Carlisle's study where everyone was gathered. Edward's voice was the one that broke the thick silence that permeated the air. Everyone arrived at the house together, but Edward arrived alone, from wherever he had been hiding. After the incident during Bella's birthday, he decided to live on his own. Carlisle spared a quick glance at Edward's eyes, and allowed himself a quick sigh of relief as he noticed that his son's eyes were still the color of liquid gold, not crimson.

"She disappeared from my visions," Alice whispered weakly. "I've been trying to look for her future since yesterday, but all I see is nothing. Carlisle, you told me to keep it to myself, but —"

"What?" Edward glared sharply at Carlisle. "You told her that?" he looked as if he had choked on air. He glared between Carlisle and Esmé. Esmé looked as shocked as Edward felt.

_Esmé knew nothing about this, Edward,_ thought Carlisle. Naturally, Edward heard him. Not that it mattered if he heard him at all. Edward was furious.

"How could you? Bella could be..." Edward looked helplessly at Alice. "Is she...?"

"She's not dead," Carlisle declared. "But she's why we're all gathered here today."

"What are you talking about?" asked Emmett, his tone impatient. "Why exactly are we here?"

"It's because of my promise," replied Carlisle. He turned to look Edward in the eye. "My promise to Bella."

"What promise?" asked Rosalie.

Carlisle sighed. "I promised to gather you all today, just right after she jumps. Jumped," he shook his head in slight confusion.

Jasper stood, outrage written on his scarred face. "What do you mean, she _jumped_?"

"The last time I saw her, she was on a cliff," Alice muttered. "She looked like she was about to jump. Then she just disappeared."

"She's not dead," Carlisle said again, his voice exasperated. "I didn't mean that kind of jump. Bella is alive. She's just... not here right now."

"What do you mean?" asked Esmé.

Carlisle massaged his temples in annoyance, feeling an impossible headache attacking his skull. Vampires weren't supposed to get headaches, yet for some reason, he was having one. "I don't know," mumbled the doctor. "All I know is that she's in another place, in another time. Almost a century ago, actually."

Everybody went still upon hearing his outrageous statement.

Edward was the first to recover from stupor. "What? Are you saying that Bella... that she went back in time? Carlisle, are you mental?"

"That's impossible," Emmett said with disbelief. He stared at Carlisle as if he saw the doctor anew. "Bella going back in time, I mean. You being crazy is totally possible."

"Carlisle, are you telling the truth?" Esmé looked exhausted. "Is Bella really in the past?"

Carlisle smiled a pained smile, and Edward saw an image of Bella in Carlisle's mind. Not the usual Bella in jeans and a hoodie, but a Bella in a beautiful white dress that preceded her time.

"Yes," said Carlisle. "It's true. I met her when I was on my way to North America from England." his eyes grew nostalgic.

"When? What year?" Alice asked curiously. "And where?"

"April 11, 1912," said the doctor. "On a ship."

"Is that..." Edward sputtered.

"Do you mean...?" blurted Jasper.

Carlisle nodded. "We met on the _Titanic_."

* * *

I opened my eyes. Cool wind stung my cheeks and moist sea air hung over my hair, making each brown strand stick to the other. I looked down at the waves, and saw dolphins racing with the flow of the ship I was on.

The _ship_.

I closed my eyes again.

This can't be happening.

I was just contemplating cliff-diving near the rez. Recreationally, of course, since I'd seen the Quileute guys do it just for fun. I wasn't suicidal. I was just after the rush. Jake said cliff-diving gave a really good rush, and I guess I was just all about rushes now that Edward was gone. Adrenaline made me feel alive, and it didn't hurt that it also gave me a chance to see Edward's face.

One minute I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the next, I was standing on the deck of a behemoth ship, surrounded by women in ridiculously large dresses and men in tailcoats. And not to mention those dolphins...

"Sir? Are you well?"

My eyes flew open, and I spun around upon hearing the voice. My hands immediately flew to the railing as my knees wobbled. The deck was just too high above the sea level. The cliff near the rez didn't scare me as much, because it was made of land. Steady, reliable land.

This was a machine. One storm could capsize this monster.

I shut my eyes again and took a few calming breaths. Images of the _Titanic_ film I'd seen a million times flashed through my mind's eye, and I resisted the urge to throw up. The man who had spoken reached out for my shoulders and gently steadied me.

"Might you be seasick, sir?"

His voice was very familiar. But that didn't make sense, since _that_ person was gone, just like everyone else. I grimaced. It seemed everything was all about not making sense now. I was definitely going nuts.

I looked up at the man, and gasped. He gasped as well, upon seeing my face.

"I apologize, miss," he said apologetically. "I thought... with your outfit... I thought you were a man."

I didn't care if he thought I was a man.

I couldn't believe my eyes. He was right in front of me. Golden hair and golden eyes, and a face that could have only belonged to one person.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle's eyes widened, probably in surprise. I'd never seen him look so surprised before. I noticed at he was wearing his hair longer, and he was wearing a gray dress coat, not his usual jacket.

"How do you know that name?" he asked. He let go of me and quickly stepped away, as if he was suddenly Bella-allergic. His eyes became wary, and I just stood still, more puzzled than ever.

What?

I stared at him in confusion. He wasn't making sense. Did he have amnesia, or was I that unrecognizable? I knew I looked more gaunt than I did before, but his lack of recognition was downright offensive. "Don't you remember me, Carlisle? I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

He narrowed his eyes at me and said stiffly, with obvious caution, "I have no memories of you, Miss _Swan_, I apologize."

He turned to walk away from me.

"Why are you lying?" I angrily asked after him. People were beginning to notice us. Or me, specifically. The lady to my left was eyeing my attire, as if my hoodie-and-jeans outfit was so outrageous. But of course, my outfit can't be more outrageous than hers.

Carlisle turned to look at me, his expression confused. "I do not lie."

I clenched my fists. "You're lying right now!"

His eyes flitted between me and the growing crowd of onlookers. He slowly walked towards me and dragged me with him into the hotel part of the ship.

"My name is Thomas Clinton Pears," he said as he pulled me into a room. He carefully locked the door behind him and made sure I saw him do so. Was it to scare me? If so, it was pointless. I could hardly bring myself to be terrified by the gentle Carlisle Cullen. Or Thomas Clinton Pears.

"Is that your new name?" I asked him. I knew for a fact that Carlisle Cullen had lived through many names. It was part of being immortal, of being a vampire. Although, I never occurred to me that he'd change his full name. I thought the name change was a surname-only kind of thing.

"It is my name," the vampire replied stiffly.

I stared at him in confusion. "So you're not Carlisle?"

He sagged on the bed, and only then did I realize I was in a bedroom. With Carlisle, or whoever he was. But that's not the point. I was alone in a bedroom with a vampire.

Suddenly, the air was too thick for my lungs.

"Is he... Is Edward with you?" I asked.

He trained his golden eyes on me, his expression bewildered, as if he couldn't determine if he should talk to me or strangle me. Which, by the way, was a strange thing to see on Carlisle Cullen's face.

Or whatever his name was at the moment.

"Who is Edward?" he asked.

I blinked. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't understand how I am making a goat of you, Miss Swan."

Goat? What goat? Did he think I was talking about a goat kind of "kid"?

I groaned. "That's not what I meant."

He stood and spread his hands in the air like a raving lunatic, and I crouched to avoid the strong swings of his arms. I didn't want to be chopped to pieces. He stared at me in frustration. "Then what, pray, did you mean? Your manner of speaking is most maddening, Miss Swan. A kid is a young goat or a young person, is it not? I would think you mean I am making you into a young person, except that is what you are, so that could only imply that you mean I'm making you into a goat, which, dear madam, I feel obligated to explain, I am not."

_Madam_? "Why are you talking like that?"

"Like what, Miss Swan? Like an Englishman?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. But now that he mentioned it, Inot iced that he had an accent. A faint but recognizable English lilt. I quickly dismissed it. I knew Carlisle had been born and raised in England. The accent only made sense. "Like, I don't know. Like my English teacher. Your sentence construction is just... well, you talk funny."

He stood stiffly, as if I had just slapped him. "I don't jest."

"See? There it is. 'I don't jest,'" I said, trying to imitate his accent. "don't you mean that you're _not joking_? And I didn't mean funny _funny_, Carlisle. I meant funny as in strange. You speak weird. Strangely, I mean."

"The way I speak is appropriate for the times, Miss Swan," he said. "The way _you_ speak, on the other hand, is very... weird."

"What are you, stuck in the 1900's?"

"Of course. It is 1912, and this is the way the rest of the world speaks."

I blinked.

"And you, Miss Swan?" he asked. "What year might you be from? Not the B.C.'s I hope."

I stared at him.

"Miss Swan?" he asked, his face slowly becoming alarmed. "You are holding your breath. Why are you doing that?"

"What did you mean by 1912?" I asked him. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Which, seeing as he was a vampire and I was just a puny little human, meant that he stood like a block of cement while I shook like some drug addict. "What did you mean when you said that it's 1912?"

Slowly, the pieces assembled in my head. The ship. The old-fashioned outfits. The weird-speak. Carlisle's long hair. But no, I refused to believe such nonsense.

That kind of stuff only existed in fiction, and even in fiction, it was always questioned.

Time travel didn't exist. It shouldn't.

"The year is 1912," Carlisle said uncertainly. Though if it was the year he doubted or my sanity he was uncertain of, I didn't know. And at the moment, I didn't really care.

"But that's impossible, Carlisle," I whispered. "It's 2006. You're a doctor. A surgeon. Your son is... was my boyfriend. You feed only on animal blood. You have a family. You're not..." I looked around the lavish bedroom. "You don't travel alone. You're not supposed to do that. That's not the way you guys travel. This isn't making sense. Where's everyone? Where's Esmé? And Emmett, Alice and Rose? Where's Jasper? Where's your _family_?"

He looked at me, his face expressionless. "My family died centuries ago," he said. "But I assume you already know that. You seem to know things about me, Miss Swan. Things that nobody, much less a human, is supposed to know. Tell me, do you know what I am?"

It seemed like a test, though I wasn't sure if passing was a good thing.

"You're..." I suddenly remembered hearing a very similar question from _him_. From Edward. It was just like the big reveal all over again. "... You're kind and gentle. You're a doctor. You're the son of a clergyman. You're someone who doesn't age, and has to drink blood to survive." Every sentence seemed to shock him as they tumbled out of my mouth. "You, Carlisle Cullen, or whatever your name is, are a vampire."

"Why do you know so much about me, Miss Swan?" he asked. His voice sounded a little winded, a little breathless. "I don't know you at all, but why do you know me?"

"I know you because I met you, Carlisle." I said. The floor seemed to disappear beneath my feet, and I staggered. Carlisle immediately caught me and settled me on a wooden chair, and I smiled at him. At least I knew that the gentleness wasn't a recent thing. "And, " I continued, "If what you said is true, if it's really 1912, then I met you... _will_ meet you, ninety-four years in the future."

"That's preposterous," he said, but he didn't sound like he thought so.

I nodded. "Absolutely preposterous," I agreed. My head felt light all of a sudden. "But it's happening."

"Miss Swan —"

"_Bella_," I corrected him.

"Bella," he said, "You are about to fall unconscious. I can see the signs of it. Would you mind if I kept you on my bed?" he quickly found himself and look flustered, "I mean nothing lascivious, of course, I was only —"

"I know vampires don't sleep, Carlisle," I said with a weak laugh. "And I'm fine with your bed. I don't really have a choice if I'm fainting."

The scenes in _Titanic_ suddenly flashed through my brain, and I clenched my teeth to keep the images from pouring in. Because it was making absolutely no sense. Why those images? Why _Titanic_? I didn't even know what year the _Titanic_ sailed, exactly. 1900? 1910?

1912?

I hoped not.

Besides, what were the chances? The _Titanic_ wasn't the only ship during this time.

Before my vision turned black, the last things I saw were two words, embroidered on the warm pillow. The words were small, with white threads on the white cloth. They could have been invisible to some, but they were too close to my eyes for me not to notice:

_RMS Titanic._

* * *

**A/N: Obviously, this is a time-travel fic. And just so you all know, Thomas Clinton Pears is an actual person. Or at least he was. He died when the Titanic sank on 2:20 am of April 15, 1912. Mr. Pears died at the age of 29, God bless his soul. Look him up on the passenger list of Titanic. He's one of the first class passengers.**


	2. Edith Pears

I woke up way before I opened my eyes.

Apparently, this reluctance to return to reality was a habit. Reality wasn't exactly appealing, no matter how scary my dreams turned out to be. And this time, my dream was especially terrifying. I mean, I was on the _Titanic_ in my dream. The _Titanic_. A ship that was doomed to sink on its maiden voyage. More than a thousand people died on that monster. If that wasn't a nightmare, I didn't know what was. Just the thought of being on something so huge yet so easy to sink...

I fought the urge to vomit.

I thought about opening my eyes and just facing the music. As distracting and different as my dream was, I had to face reality, and the fact that Edw— that he was gone. I had to face the fact that he left, and that he brought with him the people I considered my family: Carlisle, Esmé, Alice and Jasper, Emmett, and even Rosalie. It had been so many months since they all left, and yet here I was, still grieving like a kid who lost her first puppy. I've been mourning for almost a year, now that I think about it. Even deaths weren't mourned for that long. Or were they?

My thoughts were interrupted when the whole world suddenly wobbled, and reflexively, I opened my eyes.

And, surprise, I still wasn't in reality.

My mouth fell open when I saw exactly where I was. The bed I was on had silk sheets. I was... in Carlisle's room. In the _Titanic_. I was in my dream.

No. No way.

No, no, _no_.

"You are awake," said Carlisle. He was seated on a wooden chair across the room, his face wary. Not that I blamed him for being cautious. If I met someone who said he knew me from from the future, I'd have done more than just sit quietly across the room. Carlisle rose from his seat. He touched my forehead with the back of his cool hand, and smiled. "Good afternoon."

I blinked.

Good afternoon? There was absolutely nothing good about being trapped a century in the past, in a ship that was bound to sink. How was that possible, anyway? How did I go back in time? And why the _Titanic_?

I sighed. My brain just had way too many questions. "Good afternoon, Carlisle. How long was I out?"

"Out?" He studied me in confusion. "You remained in this room the whole time."

"I mean unconscious," I groaned as I sat up on the bed and reluctantly glanced at the embroidered text on one of the pillows.

The words were still there. _RMS Titanic._

The day was definitely fast on its way to being the worst of my life. "How long was I unconscious, Carlisle?"

"Seven hours," was Carlisle's instant reply.

"Seven hours," I mumbled absently. "And what day is it today?"

"I believe today is a Thursday," he replied. "What of it?"

I ignored his question. "And the date? Carlisle, which day of the month is it today?"

"Well, it is the eleventh," he said, his expression more confused than ever. "I do not see the point—"

"Eleventh!" I gasped. I grabbed my head, trying to ransack my brain for information. When exactly did the Titanic sink? I remembered that it sank on April, so there was the month. And the year, apparently, was 1912. But what date? When was this monster doomed to sink?

Suddenly, a random thought came to me.

"Carlisle, I don't want to seem rude, but how do you feed when you're on this ship?" I wondered, and I didn't miss the way his eyes widened in surprise. "You have any animals hidden under your bed or something? Your eyes are still gold, so that means you're not thirsty, and you haven't changed your diet."

"... I keep livestock in the cargo hold," was his laconic reply.

Huh.

Carlisle gazed at me steadily. "I truly hope you will soon tell me how you know so much, Miss Swan," he said stiffly. He pulled a box from under the bed and placed it on my lap.

"What is this?" I whispered.

"People call it a box, I believe."

I cleared my throat. "I know it's a box," I said. I touched the cream-colored lid. "What's in it?"

He smiled. "A dress. Your dress."

I gasped. A dress? I was a human who knew way too much about vampires. I was his enemy. If I was the enemy, why did he get me a dress?

"Please think nothing of it," he said quickly. "Your outfit now just seems... inappropriate."

I laughed. Carlisle Cullen was just as charitable as ever.

I opened the box and gasped. The dress was breathtaking, all white silk and lace. I pulled it out, and I marveled as the hem slowly flowed to the floor. I never really liked dresses, but this one dress was an exception. "It's beautiful, Carlisle. Where did you get it?"

"Madame Lucile, the British Royal Family's fashion designer, happens to be in the room next to mine."

I didn't know who Madame Lucile was, but her work seemed expensive.

"... Wow."

"Will you wear it?"

"I don't know," I muttered. "I mean, this is too much, don't you think?"

"Not entirely," he said. "Since you are to be my wife."

* * *

"Your _wife_? How dare you!"

Edward Cullen's golden eyes blazed, his fury an entity of its own. The moment the word "wife" fell from Carlisle Cullen's lips, his wrath exploded. He wanted to pry Carlisle's mind open, just to know the entire story of what happened to between him and Bella Swan in the past. Carlisle was telling the story far too slowly for Edward's taste, and the older vampire's flow of thoughts were just as ridiculously slow.

_Deliberate, _Edward thought suspiciously._ He's deliberately thinking this slowly. _

He growled in frustration.

"So you married Bella?" asked Emmett Cullen. His expression was that of humor and disbelief. "That's so messed up, I don't even know where to start."

Carlisle shook his head. "No, no, I didn't marry her. It was just... I..." he struggled with spechlessness and sank down on the chair. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Think of the times ninety-four years ago. It would have been inappropriate for a woman to be with a man who wasn't her husband."

"Well, you could have just pretended she was your daughter," blurted Jasper.

"I don't think so," Alice surmised. "Carlisle looks... _looked_ too young to have been Bella's father, and too different to have been her brother or relative. And if he said he adopted her, well... it would have seemed..." she trailed off.

"Incestuous," Emmett finished. "Lacivious. Obscene."

Rosalie Hale made an almost inaudible hiss at her mate in an attempt to silence him.

Emmett either didn't hear Rosalie, or chose to ignore her. He inched forward, his attention still on Carlisle. "Did you guys... you know...? I mean, since you were married and all—"

"Emmett!" Alice, Jasper and Rosalie snarled in unison. They all glanced sideways at Esmé and Edward. Esmé cringed under the attention, and Edward grew even more frustrated.

"Stop staring at me," Edward snapped. "Your thoughts are already unnerving enough. And quit meddling with my emotions, Jasper. I don't want to be _calm_ when I have no idea what could have happened to Bella on that ship."

"Sorry," said Jasper apologetically. _Your mood is just so... angry. Hateful. It's just so... black._

Edward nodded. "I'll hunt. Maybe my mood will improve."

Jasper smiled sadly._ I doubt that, but thanks for the sentiment._

Edward shrugged.

_And for what it's worth, _thought Jasper,_ I'm really sorry about what happened during Bella's birthday._

Edward frowned and turned away. "If apologies were always enough, justice would have been useless."

Jasper fell silent, guilt plaguing his chest.

"Are you coming back?" Esmé asked Edward. It was the first time she spoke since Carlisle started telling the story of what happened in 1912. Her expression was full of motherly worry. "You're not running away again, are you?"

Edward said nothing. With one last glare at Carlisle, he walked out of the house and ran to the woods. Esmé hesitated, but eventually followed him, deciding that she too needed a break from the awkward tension in the house.

"She'll bring him back," Alice announced reassuringly when Esmé left. "But he'll still be angry."

Carlisle sighed. "I suppose that's my fault. I can't say I didn't expect his reaction."

"Why didn't you tell us about Bella before?" asked Rosalie. "That's not something you'd forget, Carlisle."

It was just a figure of speech. Vampires, after all, remembered everything.

"I promised to keep it a secret," replied Carlisle. "I promised not to tell you until today."

"You seem to have promised Bella a lot of things," Jasper noted.

"True that," Emmett agreed.

"None of you would have believed me about the time travel if I told you before Bella disappeared from Alice's visions," Carlisle said. "I could hardly believe it myself, and I've had decades to get used to the idea."

"But did you?" asked Emmett. "Get romantic with Bella, I mean."

"What?" Carlisle sputtered. "I—"

"Nevermind," said Emmett. "I don't really want to know."

Carlisle grabbed his head in frustration. The action made him remember someone who did the same thing whenever she got frustrated. Slowly, his lips curled up in a small smile.

Jasper narrowed his eyes at the older vampire. "What are you thinking about?"

The smile faded from Carlisle's lips. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," Jasper argued. "That's—"

Carlisle's silent stare made Jasper quickly shut his mouth. The sentence didn't need to be finished; Carlisle knew what Jasper had sensed. He knew exactly what his feelings were.

Jasper got the silent message: Carlisle had a secret, and he didn't want the others to know it.

* * *

"_Wife_?" I asked, incredulous. "Me, your wife? Why?"

The ship lurched again, and I struggled to calm down. Unfortunately, the knowledge that I was inside a ship that was doomed to sink did nothing for my nerves.

"You know too much about me and my kind. I need you next to me at all times," Carlisle said with a sheepish smile. "The only way for me to accomplish that is by making you my wife."

"I could be your daughter!"

"That's ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "I hardly look old enough to be your father."

I was pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. "But... That's..."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I will be a good husband. At least until we reach New York."

But that was the thing. This ship was never going to reach its destination.

I just gaped at him. I can't be the wife of my ex-boyfriend's dad! It was just too weird!

He smiled kindly at me and placed a hand on my shoulder, classic Carlisle style. "The ship's crew won't take kindly to stowaways, Miss Swan."

I inhaled sharply. "I—"

"You are a stowaway, are you not?"

Of course I was. Not only on this ship. I was a stowaway in this whole era.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered weakly. He wasn't the same Carlisle I met ninety-four years in the future. This Carlisle didn't know me at all. I knew too much about him, so that meant I was a liability. Why was he going through such lengths to help me?

"Perhaps I am only curious," Carlisle answered. "Perhaps I am keeping you alive only to discover how you know so much about me."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do. "And after I tell you, _perhaps_ you will kill me."

His face was blank, devoid of any emotion. "Perhaps."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Then _perhaps_ it's a good thing I didn't tell you everything."

Carlisle's lips twitched and lifted to a small smile. "Perhaps."

I rose from the bed and approached the mirror. I hadn't seen my reflection in months, so I knew not to expect much, but this was just... I looked horrible. I looked like a mountain lion ate me, partially digested me, and then spat me out. It was only then that I understood why Carlisle wanted to take care of me, regardless of my dangerous knowledge.

He pitied me.

Carlisle came and stood behind me, and seeing him next to me in the mirror reminded me of a waterlily on mud. Carlisle was the waterlily, and I was, obviously, the mud.

I laughed humorlessly. "I'm the bogeyman."

Carlisle raised a skeptical brow at my reflection.

I shook my head. "Don't even bother denying it, Carlisle. I look hideous, and I look even worse next to you. You're so... beautiful."

"Thank you," Carlisle said softly.

I looked down at my feet, and my hair slowly fell to cover my face. "Are you sure you're okay with me being your wife? It's not too late to make me your maid, you know. Not that I'm having cold feet or anything."

"Cold feet?"

"Pre-marriage blues."

"Forgive me, I believe there is something you do not understand, Miss Swan," said Carlise. "A friend of mine from London is also on this ship. He is... a lawyer of sorts. He made your documents while you slept. Your name now is Edith Pears. You are already my wife."

* * *

**A/N: I feel so guilty for this delayed update. I planned on updating three days ago, but so many things came up and piled up.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :)**


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